


Absence

by Zhie



Series: Raising Cain In Valinor Once Again [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, F/M, M/M, Partner Swapping, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Amarië has known for a long time what Finrod has kept hidden.  There is more than the stories to this series - see https://raisingcain.weebly.com/ for more fun.
Relationships: Amarië/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Amarië/Idril Celebrindal, Edrahil/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Idril Celebrindal/Tuor, Tuor/Voronwë (Tolkien)
Series: Raising Cain In Valinor Once Again [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594654
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20
Collections: 2020 My Slashy Valentine





	Absence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaisingCaiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisingCaiin/gifts).



> I know I am walking a very fine line on this one, but for the greater purpose of the overall connecting stories, I felt I had to come up with a valid explanation to make all of it work. I ask forgiveness for these transgressions of het relationships showing up at the MSV party. 
> 
> My bad. But it's worth it. Promise.
> 
> <3

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. For Finrod and Amarië, it did, for a little while. Of course, a little while for Elves is approximately 8,000 years. And so, for about that long, well beyond the second and third ages, they were content. 

Living with the same person for that long can get tedious, even if one is comfortable with tedium. Amarië had lived apart from her lover while he was in Middle-earth, and vice versa, and so the novelty of living together sustained for some time. Eventually, they spent more and more time doing things together but separately. She would paint ceramics in one room while he sat reading in another. He would write letters in the study while she crafted lanterns and windchimes out of copper and wire and silver. They would travel together, but she always wanted to get out to explore on horseback during the day; he would ride in the carriage and nap or invent words. At night when she wanted to try new things to eat at the inns, he found find something familiar. 

In other words, they had stayed together for the simple convenience of not being alone, even though they were no longer one. 

Then came the night that they entertained Idril and Tuor, and Voronwë, and Edrahil. It was a simple dinner party and some games after to pass the time. A wild storm came upon the estate. Rather unexpected it was, and it washed out part of the stone wall along the hill. With the horses safe in the stable, Amarië suggested everyone stay for the night. 

The games continued; the wine flowed. As a sixth goblet was being poured for Edrahil, he stretched and yawned, and declared, “If I drink much more, I might well fall asleep in this chair.”

“We should at least find you a bed for that,” suggested Finrod. 

There were only two guest rooms, and Amarië declare the arrangements of a dutiful hostess. “Edrahil shall sleep in the east room, and Voronwë, the south. Idril and Tuor may have our room for the night.”

“Where will you sleep?” asked Idril. 

“I on the couch and Finrod on his chair. He falls asleep enough there as it is,” said Amarië.

“Tis true,” Finrod agreed.

Idril frowned, and Voronwë said, “Perhaps you should keep your room for yourselves; the guest rooms are large enough. I think Edrahil and I might be able to share a bed.”

“I would prefer the chair,” said Edrahil. 

“I offer pardon, but I cannot think it would be that bad for the two of you,” said Idril.

Edrahil wrinkled his nose. “Just because a man is homosexual does not mean he wishes to spend the night in a bed with another man--or at least, any other man, some other man, whatever it is you like--no offense, Voronwë.”

“None taken,” Voronwë answered, “Though I would have much enjoyed the company.” He winked at Edrahil, who only sipped his wine.

Tuor cleared his throat. “Perhaps the storm will let up,” he suggested.

A strike of lightning cascaded eery light through the house, and the resulting thunder shook the very foundation. 

“Perhaps not,” said Edrahil.

“What if you shared a bed with Finrod,” suggested Amarië, and Finrod abruptly looked up. “The two of you traveled together often; your journey on the Helcaraxe was made in the company of one another.”

Finrod’s cheeks tinted pink as he looked from his wife to his long-time friend, and back again. “I--may I speak to you a moment, my wife?” he asked, and he left the room before she could answer.

Amarië followed, and in the kitchen the two stood and spoke in hushed tones. “What I shared with you I shared in secret,” he whispered. He referenced a fantasy he had told her about once when they were sharing deep secrets, and how, the day before Edrahil’s death, Finrod had so greatly desired to touch him one final time, though the chains kept them from one another.

“It is a cold night, and...you have had your eyes upon him since he arrived,” Amarië whispered back. “If I was against it, I would not have suggested it.”

Finrod shook his head. “I will not do that to you.”

“Then do it for me.” Amarië held her chin up. “You are not the only one with roving eyes this eve.”

“Oh?”

“The lady Idril’s gaze has wandered in a lustful manner ever since dessert.”

“No...to whom? Voronwë?” Finrod asked.

“Voronwë is as gay as the day is long,” Amarië answered. “She has been looking at me.”

“You?”

Amarië pinched his arm, and Finrod muffled a yelp. “Do not sound so shocked! I am rather beautiful.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Besides, Tuor and Voronwë have some unfinished business betwixt one another.”

“Have they now?” Finrod mused. “Did you plan for all of this to happen?”

“Everything except the storm. And the wall--that is a most unfortunate development,” said Amarië sadly. 

Finrod licked his lips. “So, what do you intend to do? March on in there and assign beds and tell everyone to stop pretending?”

“Excellent idea!” And Amarië was off.

“Wait--no! That was--I was not serious!” Finrod briskly took off after her, but entered the parlor a little too late.

“--so that we can all stop pretending that things are perfectly fine as they are, and explore the feelings we have been having for those other than our partners. Or, in the case of some of us, feelings for someone else’s partner,” concluded Amarië.

Finrod cringed. He bit his lip through the silence and then edged to his chair to sit down.

Edrahil downed the rest of his wine and set the goblet down audibly. “So. That is how you wish it?” He looked not at Amarië, but to Finrod.

Finrod looked down at his lap.

Edrahil stood up and stretched, and then sauntered over to Finrod. He looked down at him for a moment, and when Finrod glanced up, Edrahil seized the fair hair at the nape of Finrod’s neck and pulled his head back slightly as he leaned in and passionately kissed Finrod. It lasted several seconds, and when Edrahil finished, he pressed his lips against Finrod’s ear. Finrod felt the heat of Edrahil’s breath as words were spoken to him only. “She let me do that, but do you think she will let me make love to you this night as well?”

Finrod sucked in air and turned his head to look at Amarië. His wife was already sitting in Idril’s lap, one of her hands upon Idril’s bosom. She laughed mirthfully at Finrod’s predicament, and urged him on by saying, “Go on up to the east room. It is always the coldest, you know, but I think you can keep each other warm enough tonight.”

Edrahil took Finrod’s hands and pulled him to stand before he kissed him again. Then the two of them ascended the stairs. Finrod looked behind to see his wife feeding Idril a strawberry, and Voronwë beckoning Tuor with his crooked finger.

The next morning, over breakfast, after their guests had gone, Amarië swirled her spoon in her bowl of porridge, topped with honey and strawberries. “I want the house,” she said said plainly, and Finrod looked up from his dry toast.

“Ama, we need to talk about--”

“You are not going to be content with one night here or there.” She smiled at him. “Neither am I.”

Finrod shook his head, and then asked, “What about Tuor and Idril?”

“Tuor left with Voronwë this morning. Edrahil escorted Idril home, but--they expect to hear from us.”

“You discussed this with them? Before speaking to me?”

“You slept in,” stated Amarië. She poured a little more cream into her bowl. “I am doing this for both of us. We would have grown tired of one another ere long. As it stands, we only live together, we do not share a life together.”

“But I love you, Ama,” said Finrod. He pushed away his plate and covered his face with one hand.

“I love you, too, Felagund. That is why it is so easy for me to offer this to you--it is what we both need. I had such a lovely night--and so did you, from what I heard coming from the east wing.” Amarië pulled at the front of her gown, baring a breast to him. “Do you feel a need for me right now?” she asked as her fingers circled a pert nipple and teased it. “Look at me, Felagund.”

Finrod peeked between his fingers.

Amarië brought her other breast to view and kneaded them gently before him. “Do you desire me in this moment, Felagund, or are you thinking about last night, and the hundreds of ways he can pleasure you? Do you wish to penetrate my body, or would you prefer he was here, now, to push you to the floor and make love to you?”

“Do not make me answer that,” he whispered.

“You must,” said Amarië. “He is waiting in the stable.”

“He--what?” Finrod’s heart pounded. “You said he left.”

“I also said Idril was on her way home. She is actually still up in our room, and I would like to get back to her.” Amarië blew Finrod a kiss. “He seemed very interested in seeing you again.”

Finrod whimpered. “Have I not been a good husband?”

“You have been the best.”

“Have I not seen to your needs?” Finrod’s voice cracked.

“You have, as best as you have been able. We both have needs the other cannot tend to now.” Amarië smiled and covered her chest again, then returned to her meal. “Do not weep in sorrow, my dear, but in joy, for this blessing that has been placed upon us. Many people rarely get to live one happy life. We will get to live two.”

Finrod bowed his head and cried harder. “I feel as if I failed you,” he sobbed.

She came around to where he sat and placed her hands on his shoulders, and then kissed the crown of his head. “You have not failed me, Felagund, but you have been failing yourself.” She picked up a napkin to dry his eyes. “Do you love him more than you love me?” she asked.

“Not more. Just differently,” Finrod answered in a pitiful voice.

Again, Amarië kissed the top of his head. “Our love, for some time, has been that of siblings--a respectful, easy love of companionship. What I heard coming from the room you were in last night was a deeply rooted passion you and I never quite managed. I was the lover of your springtime, and he, the love of summer. You came to me once again in your autumn, but now, it is winter, and you need warmth for your heart. Does he make your body feel glorious?”

Finrod blushed and sniffled. 

“Tell me--final request of a loving wife,” Amarië said.

Finrod bowed his head. “I felt colors of emotions I never imagined possible. My spirit was soaring as it never had before.”

Amarië smiled. “I understand. It is why I want to return to the bedroom.” She kissed Finrod gently on the lips, a ghost of a touch. “Go to him. He is waiting.”

And waiting Edrahil was. He was sitting on an overturned bucket near his horse, which was prepared for travel. Finrod’s horse was saddled as well, and Edarhil stood when he saw Finrod. “Did your wife--”

Finrod held up a hand as he approached. “I practiced this in my head. I need to say it before I forget it all.” He took hold of both of Edrahil’s hands for strength. “I do not regret last night, but I regret that it happened so quickly, before I put much thought into all of the repercussions. I am at war with myself. I am both--happy and afraid. I am mourning the loss of a relationship I was in love with, and I am terrified of how my family will react.”

Edrahil looked confused. “You have two cousins who have been in a very, very long relationship,” Edrahil reminded him.

“I know. That is them. This is me. They will talk.” Finrod shuddered. “They will ask questions. I--I need you to tell me everything is going to be alright, because right now, it all seems to be falling apart.”

“Because of your marriage? It is not as if you are leaving Amarië; you are parting amicably, from what she and I discussed,” said Edrahil.

“Not...not that. She is a good woman. She will tell them in the best way, and she will...she has always protected me.” Finrod was crying openly again, unsure of where to look.

Edrahil pulled him into his arms and stroked his hair back. It took a few moments of deduction until he asked, “Is it because you are homosexual?”

“I tried so hard,” burst out Finrod as he clung to Edrahil and wept upon him. “I tried my best to love her as she deserved. We even considered children once...I did my best. I wanted it to be forever and to work like it should.”

“Ah, sweetheart...just because a thousand people tell you something is true does not make it so,” said Edrahil. “You can read the Laws and Customs a hundred times, and they will not succeed in turning anyone straight.”

When Finrod finally cried himself to exhaustion, Edrahil urged him to mount on the same horse. “I think a slow ride so I can hold onto you is better than a race to...well, wherever we go.” Edrahil was notorious for his wandering, almost as much as Gildor Inglorion had been. 

For Finrod, this fate concerned him more than all the gossip he might be subjected to. “We could go to my cousins’ house,” he said. “They have a large manor; we could stay there for a while until we figure things out.”

“I always liked your cousins,” remarked Edrahil. He nuzzled Finrod’s neck. “I have a feeling you will not be subjected to ridicule from them.”

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. For Finrod, it was the reason he nestled back against Edrahil and made a secret vow to himself never to leave him again.


End file.
